It Starts With a Kiss
by anjelicajasmin
Summary: songfic, based on Robin Thicke's "Start With a Kiss"


1. Kiss me  
The suspense is what ties her stomach in knots and has her melting in his arms. His lips hover inches away from hers, stealing the breath from her mouth and giving it right back. Give and take. Hands, fleeting and soft, skim every inch of her, as hers find purchase in his hair, threading through the curls. Fitz watches her lips until his vision blurs and he's too close to see them; the lipstick she wears is one of his favorites, sheer and natural, and he wants to see it one last time before it is a smudged and faded memory. Then they are tasting each other, devouring each other impatiently. Tongues duel, explore, savor. He nips at her lower lip before diving in once more. He could kiss Olivia forever, if only it meant they never had to part.

2. Seduce me  
Olivia lights the last candle and turns the stereo on, swaying her hips as the sultry music fills the room. Fitz comes out of the bathroom, towel in hand, pajama pants hanging deliciously low on his hips.

"What's all this?"

In reply, she wordlessly indicates the chair she has pulled to the center of the room. He eyes her warily, then in anticipation, happily taking his seat. His throne; she makes him feel like a King. He, who is not deserving of all the love she gives him, not after he shouted at her in the campaign office earlier that day. He is stressed and anxious but that is no excuse. Still, she does her best to cheer him up. And her best is more than enough.

"I know it's been rough lately," she whispers, turning away from him and slipping the silk black robe off of her shoulders, "so I thought you needed to relax." In one motion the fabric pools at her feet and he is greeted with the breathtaking view of her backside in a simple white thong. She swivels her hips to the beat, peering at him over her shoulder, and finally turns all the way around, showing off the matching bra and everything it reveals.

"Sit back." She struts over to him, still in her pumps from earlier, the ones that captured his attention the moment she walked into the room. "Relax." She dips lowly, coming back up with expertise and grace, using muscles he is eager to make sore. Her lips touch his ear as she straddles his lap, hips still moving over him. "Enjoy."

3. Tease me  
Long, late night rides on the campaign bus are their favorite. While Cyrus and the press corps snooze up front, they sit, heads bent towards each other, laughing at corny jokes and eating the junk food Olivia stashes in her purse. _Because I deserve a treat after working with you all day_, she once teased, though he knows he can be somewhat difficult to deal with at times. Sometimes she wants to club him over the head.

Like now, as his fingers trace patterns on her inner thigh and she struggles no to utter a sound, her breathing noticeably shallow. Right now, she wants to hit him with everything she's got because she so desperately craves the release but it is neither the time nor the place. She can't have it all, discretion and pleasure.

"Stop that," she hisses through gritted teeth, her knuckles protruding as she tightens her grip on the armrest as his hand ghosts lightly over her heat, moving from one leg to the other.

"No one can see us, Livvie." Fitz speaks close to her ear, taking it between his teeth before leaning back in his seat. From far away he appears unassuming, and she looks tense and stiff. And out of breath.

"I know, but I can't-" She gasps audibly when he runs a finger up her covered slit, applying the faintest bit of pressure where she needs it most. "I can't come here."

His smirk is lost on Olivia, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her hips rising ever so slightly in search of his wandering hand. She hears the mischief in his voice, though, when he replies, "Who said I was going to let you come?"

A rush of air replaces his hand immediately and she whimpers, tossing her head back. "Don't do this to me."

"Don't worry, baby," he croons, smoothing her bangs where they stick to her forehead. "We'll be there soon enough."

4. Worship me  
"Date night" is what Cyrus calls it when he sits Fitz down and firmly tells him that for the remainder of the primary campaign, he will take his wife out once a week if she is on the trail with them. All Fitz hears is him, and Mellie, and having to be alone together in a dimly lit restaurant where he will pretend to enjoy a meal and smile at constituents while she furtively harps on him about whatever he has done to displease her now. Refusal is not an option, and that is made very clear to him by both Cyrus and Mellie who stand side by side, arms folded, staring him down. All Fitz sees is Olivia standing awkwardly behind them, looking anywhere but at him.

"Liv thinks it's a good idea, right Liv?" Mellie trills.

"It will be good for your numbers, and it gives you a chance to get out there and be a 'man of the people'." Her head snaps up quickly, reacting to something none of them has heard. "Coming," she calls a bit too loudly and a group of confused staffers part as she all but sprints from the room.

As soon as she opens the door to her hotel room Olivia knows something is out of place and she fumbled in her purse for her keys, wielding them in front of her. "Is someone in here?"

"Hey, Liv-" Fitz jumps back upon seeing her makeshift weapon, holding his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. You were supposed to be surprised."

"At what, exactly?" she questions, squinting to see in the darkness.

"At my attempt at giving you what you deserve." He sweeps her into the next room, watching her countenance shift from miffed to genuine awe. The candlelit dinner for two, the rose petals, the tiny robin's egg blue bag that sits on the table; none of it is anywhere near what she deserves but it is all he can do. "It's date night."

He sits her down, serves her, refills her drink until she adamantly refuses to have any more, feeds her tiny forkfuls of her favorite desert, all the time watching the wistful smile that plays at her lips. She knows, like he does, that, as nice as it is, it won't last long. If she can't have all of him all the time, she will get all of him plus now. He draws her bath and fills it with lavender, massages the tension out of her shoulders, brushes her hair per her strict instructions. Lays her down gently in the middle of the bed, rains kisses over her from head to toe, all the while reminding her that she is it for him, no matter what.

5. Tie me up, tie me down  
"Is it too tight?"

While he watches, Olivia flexes her wrists, testing the strength of the knot he has tied. It's intricate, something only a Navy man would know how to do, and sturdy despite the flimsy nylon material. Her hands aren't going anywhere.

"No. It's just right." She continues testing the bond, rolling her wrists around until he grabs them both firmly in one hand.

Her eyes widen at his expression, a staggering mix of arousal and a domineering leer. "Stop moving," he orders gruffly and she freezes completely. "Lay down and put your hands above your head." With a hand at the small of her back, he guides her down onto the bed. "Now, you won't move your hands, understand?"

Automatically, she replies, "Yes, Mr. President." Her voice is not hers; it's too high, too breathy, too submissive. It's so unlike Olivia Pope, the woman she is when she commands a campaign office, but it sounds right to her ears in that moment. With him, she surrenders control. It's terrifying, nerve-wracking, an immense weight lifted from her shoulders. There is no doubt in her mind she will enjoy whatever he gives her, and the demanding way he does it. Fitz leans over her prone form, kissing her lightly.

"I'll start slow," he promises, running his hands up and down her bare torso, eliciting a small shiver from her.

"No," she demands, forgoing her acquiescent persona and wrapping her legs around his waist. "Don't be gentle with me. I'm not fragile, and I don't do anything half-assed. If we're doing this, we're doing it right." Perhaps letting go of her commanding personality will be more difficult than she anticipates, but there is no doubt in her mind it will pay off. Fitz growls – a sound that raises goosebumps on every inch of her skin – and wrenches her legs from around him, holding them tightly on the mattress, kneading her thighs.

"Fine. But no more telling me what to do, understood?"

"Yes." She nods eagerly, more than ready for him to begin.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

6. Sixty-nine  
It takes Olivia a few moments to wrap her brain around Fitz's request when he raises his head from between her legs with a sly grin, watching her expectantly. His head rests lightly on her abdomen as he waits for the haze around her to clear so she can reply. Her eyes widen.

"Wh-what? I don't know, Fitz."

"Aw, come on." He slithers up her body, greeting her with an open-mouthed kiss that tastes faintly like her and she moans into his mouth. "It'll be fun."

"I've never done it before."

"Well, me either Liv. You trust me, right?"

"Of course."

"Good." With surprising speed and precision, he flips them over so she lays on top of him. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I know," she says meekly, running her fingers through the hair on his chest. "I'm just nervous."

"Don't be." Fitz scrutinizes the inner-battle going on behind big brown eyes, watching as they shift minutely through conflicting emotions. He only waits, patiently, saying nothing and laying completely still underneath so as not to disturb her thought process. They comprehend each other so well - he can sense the shift in her demeanor the moment she assents. "Ready?"

She circles over him - a perfect 180 - in a wordless reply, settling with her elbows on either side of Fitz's hips, her lips hovering inches above his throbbing manhood. When she kisses the tip lightly, his breath picks up and she can feel it hum through her entire body. Then they begin simultaneously, Olivia taking in his length as best as she can, one hand wrapped around the base as she moans onto him, and he on her in what becomes a never ending cycle of pleasure, and she promptly forgets why she was nervous to begin with.

7. Role play with me  
Fitz thinks she would look incredibly sexy in the French maid costume but she adamantly refuses, slating the negative connotations their relationship already carries. He doesn't argue, only pouts a bit and gives her a petulant, "What do _you_ wanna do then?"

The smile she gives in return has him straining against his pants already and Fitz isn't sure how he will make it through the day. "I have a plan, you're just going to have to go with it. See you at eleven." And she sashays away purposefully, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder.

He wants to ask her where she found a plaid mini skirt that short but he knows she has her ways. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Her sheer white blouse discloses that she's not wearing a bra. The knee highs hug her legs delectably, tucked into black stilettos. She pouts at him from across the room, struggling to stay in character and not laugh at his awed expression.

"I'm sorry I was late for class, professor."

He goes with it, just like she said, nearing her slowly. "This isn't the first time you've been late."

"I know, but you see, it's so hard running across campus in these shoes." She sticks a leg out for emphasis, running a hand up her bare thigh.

"I'm afraid I can't excuse you this time," he says gravely, taking ahold of her forearm. "You'll have to be punished."

Olivia begins to giggle fiendishly at his serious tone but is cut off abruptly as he spins her around and bends her over the bed. "What the hell are you doing?" she hisses quietly, breaking character.

"Punishing you," he states simply, his hand sliding up the back of her leg; he smiles wickedly upon discovering she has decided to completely forgo underwear. "For being a bad girl."

Three light circles are rubbed over her bare skin before she feels the light sting, hears the telltale smack. It doesn't hurt at all, much to her delight. It excites her, inflames her. He only gets in a few more taps before she stands up straight, kissing him passionately over her shoulder.

"I didn't know that was your 'thing', Livvie."

"Shut up," she mumbles, blushing. She feels wanton, hot, like she has just partaken in a forbidden fruit and enjoyed it way more than she should have. "I still have work to make up."

"Of course," he says knowingly, turning her around and lifting her to sit on the edge of the bed. "You missed a hell of a lot in class, today."

8. In a chair, on the stairs  
"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?"

Clearing his throat, Fitz looks up to see her standing feet away from his desk, fidgeting and embarrassed. Caught.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, Olivia, I've been looking everywhere for you. You're quite the busy bee around here. So busy you can't make time to meet with your own boss when he summons you."

She clears her throat, shifting from one foot to the other. "Right, well when you summoned me it wasn't work related, and it was afterhours, so I took the liberty of deciding it would be…inappropriate."

"But Livvie," he pouts, "you know I love inappropriate. And you know I hate being ignored, especially by you. Why are you standing so far away? Come over here."

"I'm perfectly fine right here," she says quickly, holding her hands up when he rises from behind the Resolute desk. He is before her in a few quick strides, pulling her flush against him and dipping his head to nibble at her ear. "The cameras," she reminds him breathlessly when her voice returns.

"They're off for the next hour, per my request." He slides her jacket off, letting it fall to the floor while he admires her figure in a sleeveless ivory blouse before kissing her shoulder and up her neck.

"Please," she groans, melting into him as he lifts the shirt over her head and discards of that as well before dipping his head down to kiss the rounded tops of her breasts. "Please, Fitz."

"Are you asking me to stop?" he inquires, tugging the fabric aside to encase her pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

"I don't know," she breathes with difficulty, grabbing his curls. "Are you going to keep doing that?"

"As long as you want me to, Sweet Baby."

At those words, Olivia tightens her grip in Fitz's hair, pulling him back to look in his eyes. "I've got a meeting in forty five minutes." Then she links her arms around her neck, jumping into his embrace and wrapping her legs around him, her pencil skirt riding up and bunching at her waist. "Make this quick."

"Only way I know how, baby," he kids with a wink, gliding easily across the room, even with the extra weight, and collapsing into the leather chair behind his desk with Olivia straddling his lap.

"Are you sure the cameras are off?" she demands breathlessly, sitting up on her haunches to allow him better access, his mouth creating a hypnotizing trail up and down her torso as she rests her chin atop his head.

"Positive. And if not, be sure to pick up your commemorative DVD in the gift shop on the way out."

Running her hands down his chest, Olivia lowers herself to give him a reprimanding look while her nimble fingers work at his belt and zipper, freeing him with haste. "Smart ass."

His hands steal around to slide underneath the back of her skirt, gripping handfuls of firm, ample flesh, his strong fingers plying and sure to leave bruises. "Mm, your ass is fantastic."

"Fitz, what about your chair? I don't want to mess it up. My tax dollars paid for it, much like they're paying your salary and you're not even – _Oh_."

While she speaks rapidly, nervously, he nudges the fabric of her underwear aside and maneuvers her onto him, gripping her about the waist to glide her up and down. Fluttering her eyes closed, Olivia continues a halfhearted attempt at mumbling her complaints at him.

"Olivia?"

"Hm, yeah? _Shit_, right there."

"Shut up about the chair, okay?"

9. Beg for it  
His lips brush across her collar bone, kiss down the valley between her breasts, all the way down to nibble at her belly button, slip to the sensitive skin below it. Pause. Lips on her ankle, her calf, her thigh; she feels hot breath through the thin fabric of her panties. Then he is face to face with her, kissing her chin.

"How much longer are you going to keep this up?" She hardly recognizes her own voice, she is so out of breath. It feels like hours since Fitz first awakened her with teasing kisses on her stomach, the conspicuous announcement of his arousal pressed against her leg.

"I'm just getting started Livvie."

She expels a frustrated groan when he rolls over to the other side of the bed, leaving her wanting and panting and unsheltered in the brisk air. Something clinks noisily from the nightstand he is hunched over, and in the dark she anticipates what he has planned. When he is looming over her again, she opens her mouth to question his intentions but is cut off by the sensation of freezing water dripping onto her chest. He lowers his head to draw patterns with the melting ice cube, then uses his cold tongue to do the same as she writhes beneath him. It melts completely, leaving a puddle that he laps up without a second thought before retrieving another piece of ice and repeating the process only inches lower.

"Fitz. I need…please. _Please_."

"Relax, Liv. Enjoy."

"I can't. I need you inside me. _Now_."

"I'll get there baby." He rubs her leg soothingly, his voice muffled around the newest ice cube. "Slowly but surely, I'll get there." He runs the frigid block up her slit and she cries out loudly, fisting the sheets in fear that she will pull his perfectly shaped curls from his head if she reaches for them.

"Please, Fitz," she implores, a small sob escaping her lips. The ice is half melted and fades quickly, leaving him to wrap his chilled lips around her button.

Releasing her with a pop, Fitz tilts his head up to search her face. "I don't think you're ready yet."

10. Make me beg for it  
Fitz wracks his brain, retracing his steps for the last twenty four hours. He doesn't remember leaving anything of his in her hotel room that morning, or making too much of a fuss about leaving. His debate practice went well, so well even Cyrus had lauded his efforts with a grumbled, "Better than yesterday." He kept his hands and eyes to himself to the best of his abilities. He has done nothing wrong, to his knowledge, and so he is very puzzled as to why Olivia gives him the cold shoulder all day.

When he calls out to her, she claims to be busy, flippantly dismissing him and sitting down in a chair not too far away, clearly doing nothing but ignoring him. He thinks she is being a bit too dramatic, and his suspicions are confirmed when he finally convinces the staff to give him a moment alone. Shutting himself in his office, he plops down into his swivel chair and pulls open a drawer in search of the book he started days ago. Lying neatly on the hardback cover are a pair of black underwear, the same ones he saw her put next to her outfit that morning as she picked out her clothes and shooed him out the door. He realizes then that he is being played.

The moment he steps out of his office she happens to be walking by, and he catches her mischievous smirk. His arm shoots out to stop her but she swerves to avoid it.

"What exactly is this about?" he calls after her, and she shrugs but doesn't stop.

For the remainder of the work day, everything she does is teasing, taunting him. She rests the tip of her pen on her full bottom lip and flicks her tongue around it while examining numbers. She drops things, countless things, stupid things that have no business being dropped, just to bend over and pick them up. She claims to be experimenting with a new hair style, tousled locks that look a bit untamed, and it's as if she examined her hair after he fell asleep last night to get it just messy enough. Dinner is the worst, though.

Someone announces that they will all be dining together, and to thank Olivia for ordering them all pizza – she smiles and plays it off, saying it's the least she can do. They sit directly across from each other but she spends the entire meal talking to a young woman Fitz doesn't recognize about trivial topics he knows she doesn't really care about; make-up and celebrity gossip. But somehow she manages to even eat pizza seductively, and she licks her lips throughout the meal, twirls her straw around her cup with her tongue, makes appreciative noises when she bites into the food that ring familiarly within him. Most of the guys at the table ogle her, and she tones it down when she takes notice, flushing prettily and dipping her head.

He assumes she is done, that she has no more tricks up her sleeve, but he feels stupid for even having the thought. Olivia Pope always has Plans A through F at the ready. He jolts noticeably in his seat when her stocking covered foot comes up to rub along his leg, starting at the knee and working its way up to his inner thigh. Someone asks him about an upcoming appearance and he stutters through an answer, clutching surreptitiously at the edge of the table. For the first time that day she looks at him.

"My room," she mouths, dropping her foot from his lap. Then she announces, "I'm exhausted. See everyone bright and early tomorrow morning," before traipsing off.

His lips are devouring hers before the door clicks shut behind them and though she is normally the cautious one, she says nothing, simply holds him closely and returns the embrace with fervor. He picks her up around the waist, hoisting her to him, and treks to the bed, tossing her down onto the mattress.

"Stop," she cries when he looks ready to pounce on her, and she adjusts her dress where it has ridden up. "You had your turn. Now sit down."

Startled at her unexpected command, he does as he's told, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while she rises and stands before him. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to lay back and let me do my thing. No touching, no kissing. I want to call the shots for once. Then, when I think you're ready – I mean when you're sweating and you can't take anymore and you're absolutely _pleading_ for it – I'll give it to you. Got it?"

He nods carefully, swallowing. "Got it."


End file.
